


leviathan

by disorderedorder



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Modern AU, Overstimulation, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: trouble me and don't be afraidstill got time to walk awaylucifer, leviathanhe is I girl, and I am him





	leviathan

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas you filthy sinners

Moving into the inner city might have been one of the least-planned out decisions you made in the past year. Originally, you’d been planning to move out with a few friends from college, but life had happened and one of them was married, the other moved back to her hometown to care for her family, leaving you with the lease, the apartment, and the one thousand a month rent, which made your head spin. It wasn’t that you were scraping by, but your Friday and Saturday nights were often spent inside with takeout and your Netflix account pulled up. The bars frequented by people your age charged nearly ten dollars per drink, something that was just a little out of your price range, especially when you could easily buy an entire bottle of wine for ten dollars.

 

Without your friends, you turned to the internet to make new ones, for a little more interaction outside your associates at work. Most sites yielded only casual conversation and very little connection, most people already having formed their preferred circles and cliques. Being the outsider, you felt like the perpetual third wheel, leading you to wean yourself offline, out of respect for them and to prevent getting your hopes up too much. The same thing could be said for your associates at work, all of them either old friends or colleagues or having transferred from their old location together. Out of all of them, you were the only true newcomer.

 

During a FaceTime conversation with one of your friends from college, the subject of you downloading something along the lines of Tinder came up, something you initially rejected, saying you weren’t looking for any sort of relationship for the time being. Your job gave you enough stress as it was, and a significant other only invited the opportunity for more of it that you had no need for. A moment had passed before she lowered her voice and suggested something else, something called FetLife. It had earned her an eye roll from you, even when she tried to explain it wasn’t like Tinder at all. You’d made a sarcastic comment, something about how it was just for people to sext each other.

 

She’d taken no offense to your comment, but she’d reminded you that it was always an option, and to text her any time if you had questions about it. For weeks, you’d hesitated, sometimes pulling the website up only to close it again, something inside you always holding you back. Once, you’d gotten all the way to the verification code screen before you’d closed your browser and binged an entire season of your show on Netflix for the remainder of the night. Still, the idea had stuck in your head, nagging you with all the possibilities it could offer. The city you lived in was big, surely not everyone that lived in your vicinity could be gross or taken or simply incompatible with you.

 

Now, as you open your laptop, your fingers hover over the touchpad, debating on whether or not to open Chrome or Netflix. It’s dark outside, Daylight Savings Time just having passed just last week, and the city is abuzz at only six o’clock. You know that if your friends had gone through with their original plan, you’d be getting ready right now, probably pregaming before a nightlong bar hop. Back in college, you’d frequented more than one frat party per night, especially during your freshman year, but you’d never really gone into the inner city to the clubs. Going out had become less and less of your thing, especially when you’d started your new job.

 

The rational part of you is urging you to just open Netflix and finish the last three episodes of your show, but another part of you is nagging you about your friend’s suggestion, the silent question of why not an echo in your mind. Without overthinking it any longer, you click on Chrome and pull up FetLife for the tenth time in two weeks, the now-familiar opening screen welcoming you and urging you to make an account. The first bit goes almost too fast, even your preferred role set to Undecided. The first time you’d seen that section, you’d been overwhelmed with the sheer number of different roles offered, until you remembered how many different roles there were in the community.

 

Of course, as the code verification screen pops up, you feel a moment’s hesitation before you type the six digit code into the box and the site flashes you a little welcome message, asking you to follow people in your area, which you skip over. It asks you now for a picture, sending a twinge of apprehension through you. You have few pictures of yourself that you’d be willing to make your profile picture, and even fewer that you feel would qualify to fit the content of the site. Ultimately, you end up cropping a picture of yourself, so only your nose, mouth, jawline, and part of your neck are visible. For a while, you explore the site, trying to make sense of all the tabs and pages, until you see a little red dot next to the letter icon at the top of your page.

 

It’s a joke, you think at first. There’s no way that after only an hour or so on the site as a member that you would have already gotten a message from someone. You consider closing the site entirely, but curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the envelope, wondering who it is that’s decided to start conversation. The first thing you note is their icon, which is an image of a heavily tattooed chest, the designs too small for you to make out. The name associated with the profile sounds so made-up that you wonder if it’s some sort of catfish account. You don’t even glance at his message before you click on his name to view his account, wondering if maybe that could give you some kind of idea as to who he is.

 

Kylo Ren, according to his profile, is twenty-nine, a Dominant, and looking for a sub. His friend count is in the five thousand range, and you’re half expecting to see that he lives somewhere across the country from you, which is why it’s a shock to see that his location isn’t far from yours. His gallery of pictures offers none of his face in full, but plenty of his tattoos, which cover his entire chest, both arms, and thighs. You note his septum piercing and snake bite piercings, his scorpion tattoo encircling his left forearm, his lightsaber tattoo that takes up the majority of his back. In many of his pictures, his fingers are adorned in various silver rings, and in a few, he holds a joint almost delicately between his index and middle fingers. Most of his pictures are filtered in black and white, and all of them look professionally taken, unlike many of the other users.

 

Curiosity is eating away at you as you comb through his pictures, trying to find at least one with his face, but there’s none that reveal it in its entirety. Frustrated, you click back to his profile, the little red notification at the top of your page like an warning siren. You click back to your inbox, Kylo’s message still waiting to be read. A part of you almost wishes he turns out to be a catfish, because from what you’ve seen, he seems too good to be true. But you click his message anyway, wondering what he’s got to say to you.

 

 _New here?_ it reads.

 

You scoff, since your knee-jerk reaction is to send back a reply of _no shit_. But you type out something a little less condescending instead, since you get the sense that Kylo is the last kind of person you want to make angry.

 

 _At the suggestion of a friend_ , you say. _She said it was more...adventurous than Tinder._

 

His reply is almost immediate. _Your friend would be correct. This isn’t Tinder._

 

 _How do I know you’re who you say you are? How do I know that anyone is who they claim to be on here?_ you ask, figuring it’s best to get your big question out of the way as soon as you can.

 

 _Most Doms on here are fakes,_ he replies. _But I’m not. I’m a real person, and if you’re willing, I can meet you tomorrow at the Starbucks on Fifth and Vine to prove it._

 

While you’re shocked at his boldness, you’re not put off by it. _I’d rather exchange numbers first, if you don’t mind._

 

_Or I could always send you my other handles elsewhere to prove that I’m real. Trust me, you’re not the first person to think I’m not the person in my pictures._

 

A moment later, a few links pop up, one to a Twitter, one to Instagram, and one to a Tumblr account. The first one you open is his Twitter, and you can’t help but laugh at his handle. @masterdarkside sounds more like highschool boy’s Twitter account, not a Dom’s. But the profile picture is the same as his FetLife picture, and all his information, down to his linked accounts, seems to match up. You click through to his Instagram, which is also all in black and white. His handle there is simply @kyloren, and his description is simply three black heart icons. There, you find a picture of his face, and you’re shocked at how uniquely beautiful he is.

 

The black and white filter of the photo only makes his dark eyes look more intense, his dark hair falling in voluminous waves to his shoulders, his brows furrowed in an expression somewhere between angry and focused. An old scar bisects the right side of his face, from above his brow down to his jaw. To you, he seems to be pouting, but it might simply be because of how full his lips are. A few moles are scattered across his face, like constellations. It seems almost wrong that someone this attractive be stuck looking for companionship on a site like FetLife, but you remember that not everyone is as open as the kink community is when it comes to discussing what they’re really looking for.

 

You click back to your other browser tab and type out a message to Kylo, who you hope is still waiting.

 

 _If you’re a catfish, then you’re a dedicated one_ , you say.

 

_I can assure you I’m not. But maybe we should meet, if you’re still so unsure._

 

_You’re willing to meet up with me despite having spoken with me for less than ten minutes?_

 

_If that’s what it takes for you to believe I’m real, and not faking. But maybe...we should meet tomorrow night. The garage, across from the law firm on Main. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure._

 

Of course you have. It’s a motorcycle garage, the one you pass every day on your way to work. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, but you’ve heard rumors about it being a drug hub too, which could be an explanation for the joints.

 

 _I pass it on my way to work,_ you reply. _What time?_

 

_Nine. And wear something nice. I’d like our first meeting to be...memorable._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Saturday night finds you parked one block from the garage as you smooth down the sleek, form-fitting black dress you haven’t worn since your last senior party in college. Twin cutouts, a dangerously short hem, combined with a low back and a deep V neckline make you feel like you should be on your way to the club, not some random mechanics’ garage. A part of you wishes you’d brought a jacket, worn something other than your only pair of stiletto heels, but it’s too late to turn back and change now. The clock in your car reads ten till nine, and while anticipation stirs in your chest, you feel apprehension in tenfold simultaneously. It’s not that you don’t want to meet Kylo, but the fact that he’s a self-established Dom makes you not only nervous, but a little afraid.

 

For five minutes, you watch the time pass, each second feeling like a countdown. At five till, you turn your car back on and shift it into drive, your focus now on where you should even park when you get there. There’s a parking garage across the street from the garage, but there’s also an alleyway right beside it, just big enough for your little car to fit into. Neither are really safe options, but you opt for the alley, since you won’t be crossing the street to reach your destination. You pull into the alley and shift your car back into park, the clock reading three till nine. You allow yourself a minute to pull yourself together before you open your door a few inches, just enough to get out. The tiny clutch you hold carries your phone, your car and apartment keys, and a bit of cash, and you wonder if you should have left room for your pepper spray, lest things go awry.

 

The clicking of your heels on the pavement is the only sound as you tiptoe out of the alley and turn the corner, the garage only a few feet away. From inside, you can hear the sound of voices, and the faint smell of weed hits you a moment later. Immediately, you’re worried that it’s a real party and you’re overdressed,  or that it’s all an elaborate setup to make you a laughingstock. As much as you’d like to trust Kylo and his intentions, despite his chosen place on the internet to meet and talk to people, you can’t be completely sure that he’s not just luring you into a trap. Your grip tightens on your clutch as you take another step forward, into the harsh fluorescent light of the garage.

 

Around a table, a group of seven men, all clad in black, toss cards and poker chips into a pile, glasses of beer balanced precariously on the edges of the tabletop. Their leather jackets are similarly designed, it seems, but each has its own unique features that you assume are meant for telling them all apart from the back. However, the one thing they all have in common is the name “Ren” embroidered across the back. Their voices are low as they quietly argue hands and bluffs, but the man with his back to you raises his hand, stopping all movement at the table.

 

When he stands, you’re startled at how _tall_ he is. He’s much taller than any man you’ve ever met before; his torso must be at least two times larger than yours. His shoulders are impossibly broad, and his arms appear to be straining against the sleeves of his jacket. The same could be said for his thighs, clad in tight black jeans with leather panels. A pair of thick motorcycle boots wrap around his calves, and you’re stunned to see a pair of deadly-looking metal spurs at his heels.  He turns slowly, confirming exactly what you were thinking: this is Kylo Ren.

 

He’s even more attractive in real life, if that could even be possible. The corner of his lips turns up into a smirk as he flips the unlit joint between his massive fingers. His steps towards you are slow and deliberate, the sound of his spurs ringing against the concrete floor. Even his walk is calculated, seductive, just like the rest of him. His messy black hair falls into his eyes in fluffy waves, and when he looks down at you, it almost hides his eyes. Something the pictures didn’t translate were the golden flecks in his eyes that add a dangerous glint to his gaze. The hand that’s not holding his joint comes up to brush against your cheek, and you flinch involuntarily as you feel the warm metal of his rings. He purrs, a deep, animalistic sound that makes you shiver and feel like you’re being examined under a microscope.

 

“Little One,” he purrs, and he bends down, his lips pressing against your cheek for a quick but intense moment. “I thought you weren’t coming.” His hand slides down your arm, gripping your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You can’t help but feel the hard muscles of his pecs through the tight black T-shirt he wears underneath his jacket. He bites his lip, drawing one of his piercings between his teeth briefly as you touch him. Your cheeks feel just as hot as his skin, and when you glance back up at him, he’s smirking still, and you note with a skipped beat of your heart the stud in his tongue when he licks his lips.

 

“Kylo,” you squeak, which makes him laugh. He leans down again to kiss you, this time on the lips, and both his hands are on your waist, securing you in place as his tongue licks at your lower lip, and you feel the metal of his tongue stud click against your teeth. The snakebites add a completely new sensation to the kiss, one you’ve never felt before. His kisses are aggressive, dominant, and it’s made clear to you very quickly that he likes to have control in _all_ situations. It’s not only his height that makes you feel tiny; his hands are so large that you swear that he can almost fit them around your waist. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls away, his hands still at your waist as he just _watches_ you with that smirk.

 

“We were just finishing our game,” he says, nodding at the table of men still redealing cards. “You’re welcome to join, sit in my lap while I win the next hand and smoke the rest of this joint, or we could go to my apartment. It’s just upstairs.”

 

Both options sound equally enticing, but you’re much more intrigued by the idea of his apartment and what implications come with it. It takes a moment for you to answer, and it comes out more or less just mumbles and the word “apartment.” Kylo laughs again, and he takes your hand in his as he leads you across the length of the garage to the stairwell at the very back. He stuffs the joint in his jacket pocket, presumably saving it for later.

 

“Close up,” he tells the men at the table. “No other entries tonight. It’s Saturday, go home, be with your families, eat a wholesome dinner.” His tone is condescending, but the other men laugh, as though it’s simply a recurring joke made every night. You’re aware of his hand having let go of yours to rest on your lower back, the heat of his palm going right through the flimsy material of your dress. It’s only then that you realize that you unintentionally matched him, the faux leather of your dress looking shockingly similar to the real leather of his jacket and the panels on his jeans.

 

He opens the door for you, and when it slams shut behind him, he scoffs. “I’ve only met four other followers before,” he says. “One was a sub who didn’t know what she really wanted and backed out within five minutes of stepping foot in my garage. The second was this little high school kid, just turned eighteen, and he’d made his account on a dare. A fucking dare, can you believe it? I went to his house and he balked. Said his parents were home. Third one was this girl who thought I was going to sub for her, thought she could boss me around like she did her old boyfriend. She talked big, which is fine...until you think that it’s going to slide in the bedroom.

 

“The fourth was a one-off, some guy just looking to lose it to someone already, wanted to come over and have me fuck him in front of my Knights. Which I would have done, until he started crying when I got him naked. He would never admit it, but he wasn’t looking to just ‘lose it.’ He wanted that stereotypical high school romance losing your virginity shit, I couldn’t give that to him. Obviously. But you’re special, Little One.”

 

He reaches the top of the stairs before you do, and you’re left staring at him in confusion as he opens the door to his apartment open for you. The words stick in your mouth as you try to figure out how to ask how you’re special without sounding stupid. Kylo’s eyes are closed as he laughs to himself, recalling his previous follower experiences, and a part of you hopes you won’t join them in some humiliating way. You can’t help but wonder what he said to them, if he messaged them first, if he was drawn to them despite his implications that they were the ones coming after him.

 

“What makes me different, then? Aren’t I just a follower, too?” you ask, bolder than you expected it to sound. For a split second, you’re afraid that Kylo will tell you to leave, but instead, he just shakes his head and shuts the door behind him. His footsteps are heavy as he brushes past you, taking your hand in his again and pulling you along slowly, giving you little time to take in your surroundings.

 

“Unlike the others, I spoke to you first. And you seemed rightly suspicious, something that didn’t cross the others’ minds. None of them ever met me here, either. It was all hotels, their places. You are the first of them to set foot in this apartment, to see my men, to get a taste of how my life outside FetLife operates.”  
  
“But _why_?” you ask. “Is it because I was new and you were bored and wanted someone to lure out? Or was it—”

 

Kylo’s lips on yours again cut you off mid-sentence, but unlike before, his kiss is more tongue and teeth as he backs you into the wall, his hands gripping your shoulders at a bruising pressure. His hands leave you for a moment as he pulls his jacket off, tossing it to the floor. He kicks your legs apart as his hands slide down your body, his mouth at your throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck as he grabs your thighs, picking you up with no effort and wrapping your legs around his waist. He growls at you as he sucks marks into your skin, his teeth scraping at them, making them darker, his tongue soothing the sting of his bites.

 

“Do you want to know why I messaged you first, Little One?” he growls against your lips. “Why I thought that you’d be the perfect little sub for me?” He doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he bites at your bottom lip, slides his tongue against yours. “Because out of everyone I have seen on that website in my four years being on it, no one has ever caught my attention as quickly as you have. I didn’t need to see your entire face in your picture to know that you were absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

 

Your hem is at your hips now, pushed up to reveal your black lace thong, and Kylo is grinding against you, the seam of his jeans rubbing your clit through the thin lace, the bulge in his jeans evident of his arousal. He snarls, pressing you harder against the wall as he kisses you, your hands winding in his hair and pulling hard. You’re both breathing heavily when he pulls away from your lips enough to speak, his voice low and raspy.

 

“I am going to take you to my room and make no mistake, I will fuck you in every way I possibly can over the course of the night, Little One,” he growls. “But your word is red. You say that to me, I will stop and clean you up, and send you home with full reassurance that we never have to do this again.”

 

The establishment of a safe word reassures you, more than you expected, and you take a moment to breathe before you kiss him back, this time softer and a little more affectionate, something he doesn’t immediately reciprocate, most likely out of confusion. He sighs deeply, adjusting you a bit in his arms as he nips at you, urging you to answer him.

 

“If anything is too much, that’s what it’s for?” you ask, which simply earns you a nod.

 

“Or if you just want me to stop,” he adds.

 

“Then I understand,” you say. “But I want you, please, Kylo.”

 

The look on his face changes, so subtle that you almost miss it, but the look in his eyes is more intense now, something darker behind them than before. He slides a hand up your back, his other arm supporting the rest of your weight as he carries you down the hall, kicking open the first door on the left side of the hallway. The room is dark, and with your back facing it, you can’t see much, but Kylo nearly tosses you down onto a large bed with enough force to make you bounce once.

 

“I know my title says Dominant,” he says as he pulls his shirt off, gifting you with the sight of his bare, tattooed chest and arms. “But tonight, you call me Daddy, understand?”

 

Up close, you note some sort of brand right over his heart, and the twin sabers at his collarbone in a linear pattern. His pecs are huge, one of them alone bigger than your head, and you can easily count eight very defined abdominal muscles on his stomach. You notice his prominent V line, partially hidden by his pants, and as his hands go to the button of his jeans, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding.

 

“Dress off, Little One,” he commands. “I want to see that perfect little body of yours.”

 

You kick your heels off first before you your dress off, over your head, and toss it to the side, leaving you only in your bra and thong, on display as Kylo kicks off his own shoes and kicks his socks under the bed. Your eyes are locked on his hands as he slides his jeans off slowly, teasingly, and he clicks his tongue, bringing your attention back to his eyes.

 

“Look at me,” he says. “I want to taste you first, see if you’re wet enough for me. Give me your thong, you won’t be needing it anymore.”

 

Obediently, you slide your thong off and hand it to him, and to no surprise of yours, he stuffs it in his pocket before he kicks his jeans off, too. He kneels before you, pulls you closer to the edge of the bed as he begins to kiss your thighs, his eyes still on yours as he edges closer to your cunt. He bites you once, to keep your attention, and you yelp, one of your hands going to his hair on instinct.

 

“I want you to beg me,” he growls. “Beg me to eat your pretty little cunt.”

 

“Please, Daddy, I want you to taste me, make me wet enough to fuck, I need your mouth on my cunt, _please_ ,” you whimper, your cheeks hot as you beg, the fingers of the hand not in Kylo’s hair turning white as you grip the sheets.

 

Kylo doesn’t give you a warning as he licks you once, then twice, his tongue hot and wet and firm against your dripping cunt, the vibrations of his snarls going straight to your clit as he tastes you. Two of his fingers nudge at your entrance, stroking firmly before he slides them in, stretching you open before adding a third. He purrs, his tongue laving your clit, his teeth grazing your little bundle of nerves every few seconds, an intense sensation that’s completely unfamiliar to you. You find yourself grinding up into his mouth, the sounds coming out of your mouth not even words anymore, just desperate, incoherent noises of need.

 

“Fuck, Little One, you taste _amazing_ ,” Kylo growls, pulling away to spit on your cunt, before he presses his mouth against you again, the sounds of him eating you obscenely loud. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, but increasing his speed once he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You’re panting as you feel your orgasm approaching, and as Kylo curls his fingers inside you, rubbing against a spot so sensitive it makes you see stars, you’re left begging again.

 

“I want to cum, please, Daddy, I want to cum, let me cum,” you beg, and Kylo just laughs, his teeth scraping across your clit again.

 

“You want to cum around my fingers, Little One?” he teases you. “You want to show Daddy you’re wet enough for his cock, hm?”

 

“Yes, Daddy, I want to,  I want you to fuck me, please let me cum,” you whine as you clench around his fingers again, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

 

Kylo snarls, sucking your clit harder than before, his fingers thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “Cum for Daddy, Little One,” he growls, and you obey with a yelp as you soak his fingers and the palm of his hand. He’s still thrusting his fingers in and out of you, forcing you straight into a second orgasm, this one sharper, more intense than the first. You’re on the verge of tears as he licks your cunt one last time, before pulling his fingers out of you and cleaning every last drop of you as he watches you shake, catching your breath.

 

“Bra off,” he orders. “Bend over the bed, and give me your hands.”

 

You stand on shaky legs, and it takes you a minute longer than it usually would for you to get your bra off because your hands are shaking so much. Kylo just watches you, the look in his eyes possessive, predatory. You slide your bra off, toss it to the ground with the rest of your clothes before you step in front of Kylo, your back to him, your arms crossed behind your back. A moment later, you feel one of his hands circle both your wrists, pulling you against him, the other hand dipping lower, his fingers brushing over your still-sensitive clit.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he purrs in your ear, his hair tickling your cheek. “And maybe I’ll give it to you.” You can feel him moving, and you feel his foot nudge yours, and a moment later, you notice his underwear amongst the other clothes on the floor.

 

“I want you to fuck me, bend me over the bed and don’t stop, even if I’m begging you to, I want you to show me the worst, I want you to take what you want first and then let me have what you think I should have, Daddy,” you say, your words seeming to run together the more desperate you become.

 

Kylo doesn’t reply verbally, he simply shoves you down onto the bed, face first, the hands holding your wrists now in a vice grip as you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. Already, you can tell he’s massive, bigger than your ex from college, and much thicker. He teases you a bit, sliding it against your lips, the head catching on your clit. He laughs as you squirm, but you feel him pressing into you a moment later, the initial stretch of it already stealing the breath from your lungs. He slides into you slowly, so when you feel something catch at your entrance, you yelp.

  
“Daddy...what...what is that?” you ask timidly, earning you another laugh.

 

“You probably haven’t heard of it, before, Little One, but I have a ladder piercing,” he replies. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt, I promise. But...before I continue…”

 

He trails off, and you’re vaguely aware of his hand at his cock, twisting _something_ , and you hear a faint, soft buzzing sound before he starts pressing into you again, and then you feel the vibrations from the studs against your cunt. You let out an involuntary moan as each one slips into you, and after the seventh and last one, his hips are pressed flush against your ass as he grinds into you, allowing you to feel the length of him in you. It’s overwhelming, almost painful, which makes you grateful for the oral he gave you earlier.

 

“Fuck, your cunt is too tight,” he snarls as he begins to thrust. “Fucking little slut, I bet you like this, not being able to see me fucking you. Playing innocent, being the good girl for everyone else so they wouldn’t find out how you really are. You’d like if they were watching us right now, wouldn’t you? Letting them see what you like Daddy to do to you, how he fucks you and leaves you begging for more, hm?”

 

His hand around your wrists forces you back against him as he thrusts hard, his pace relentless as he pulls almost all the way out, only to thrust all the way back in. The drag of his cock inside you is too good, the stretch of him overwhelming, the tip hitting your cervix every time his hips meet your ass. You’re growing rapidly wetter around him, especially when his other hand slides between your legs to rub at your clit, making you whine and try to squirm away, your nerves still too sensitive.

 

“Stop fucking moving away from me,” he growls, and you obey the best you can as he rubs your clit, the stimulation on the verge of painful. “You want to cum on my cock?”

 

When you don’t answer, he snaps his hips into you with a deeper growl, his hand pulling your wrists again. “Answer me, whore, do you want to cum on my cock?”

 

“Yes, Daddy, I want to cum on your cock, please,” you answer, your voice barely above a whimper.

 

Kylo rubs your clit harder, pinching and rolling it between his fingertips as he thrusts harder, faster, chasing his own orgasm. He’s panting, snarling, desperate for release, and his hand leaves your wrists to tangle in your hair, pulling as he grinds into you, moaning as he feels you start to clench around him. A second later, you feel the heat of his chest against your back as he kisses your shoulder, pulling your head up by your hair.

 

“You’re on the pill?” he asks softly, and you can only nod before he straightens again, pulls harder at your hair.

 

“You want my cum in your little cunt?” he asks, his fingers at your clit slowing. “You want me to mark you, make you mine?”  
  
“Please, Daddy,” is all you can say, before he starts rubbing your clit again, snapping his hips into you at a brutal, bruising pace, and your orgasm knocks you sideways as you clench tightly around his cock. His thrusts don’t slow, even as you cum, and his hand at your cunt only drives you into another orgasm as he cums, warmth flooding you as his hips stutter, then stop entirely. He’s breathing heavily, catching his breath, still inside you and still hard.

 

After a long moment, he pulls out, a rush of his thick, hot cum following, dripping out of your cunt. Your hand immediately goes to catch it, but Kylo’s hands are on you again, pressing you against the bed, urging you to lay on your back as he kneels between your legs again. Your embarrassment turns to stunned silence as he presses his mouth against your cunt again, cleaning his own cum from you, his tongue sliding into you, the filthy wet sounds of his cum and yours obscene as he eats you. His moans are decadent, luxurious as he finishes licking the last of his cum from you.

 

Kylo stands, scooping you from the bed briefly to pull the blankets back for you, and laying you back down as he tucks you in. You feel the bed dip behind you, and his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest as he purrs, sounding satisfied and content.

 

“I thought you promised to fuck me in every way you could,” you tease him, and you’re treated with a growl.

 

“I will, that’s one promise I don’t plan on breaking,” he says, nipping the curve of your ear. “But first, maybe we should exchange numbers in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to every [single](http://traitorsolo.tumblr.com/) [one](http://baensolo.tumblr.com/) [of](http://magpieminx.tumblr.com/) [these](http://kylo-renne.tumblr.com/) [amazing](http://eclipsejuno.tumblr.com/) [people](http://droneshard.tumblr.com/). thank you all so much for all the love and support you've shown me and my writing this year, and here's to many more months of it.


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